Crutch
by DeBrabant
Summary: Everybody needs a crutch sometimes...even a Slayer...
1. It Was Dark

Crutch  
By Danii  
Disclaimer: I own no one, nothing, and nada. Don't sue. I have nothing to take…  
Distribution: Please take! Please! Just tell me AFTER you put it up, okay? With my name on it…  
Dedication: To Ray Rivera, Lori Bush, Shawn, Michael, Nick, and all the really nifty people who have been giving my starving muse the feedback she needs!  
Rating: R, for adult subjects, language, discussion of rape etc., and other assorted unpleasantness.  
Feedback: Required for me to finish. I'm not blackmailing you, folks, it just makes it easier for me to write…  
NOTE: I know I'm totally insane for starting this, but I figure I'll live.   
  
  
And now:  
  
  
I'm a much happier person then I used to be, and while most people would think that this is a bit strange considering the events that brought me to where I am now, I have to say that I really wouldn't have wanted it to turn out any other way.  
  
Maybe the road was rough.  
  
Maybe the path was hazy.  
  
And maybe, just maybe, things would have turned out the same way if none of it had never happened, though I doubt that I would appreciate it as much if things hadn't gone the way they did.  
  
But the important thing is that they did happen.  
  
You see, I didn't like to depend on other people, and I guess that's why a lot of people thought I was self-absorbed.  
  
I mean, it's not like I didn't realize just how much people had helped me over the years. I was aware of it, even if I wasn't as open with thanks as I probably should've been. It's just that…I didn't like to acknowledge the fact that I needed help. That I wouldn't have made it through without a little nudge here or there.  
  
But sometimes…sometimes Fate doesn't give a flying fuck about what you like. Sometimes things just happen, and you don't have the option of standing on your own. You just have to accept that arm holding you up, that shoulder to cry on, that sympathetic ear, even if it makes you sick to your stomach at your own weakness.  
  
Everybody needs a crutch sometimes…  
  
This was my time.  
  
##  
  
It was dark.  
  
This wasn't odd, it being one o'clock in the morning. But for some reason, this little fact seems to always stick out in my mind.   
  
It was dark.  
  
I was alone as usual, just me and Mr. Pointy, if you get my drift, and we were patrolling just like I normally did when it came out.  
  
You know, it's funny…we've never actually identified what the thing was, even though I've never had as…close of an encounter with any other demon before. But I suppose I was busy with other things at the time, other problems and emotions…and it was dark.  
  
I remember it jumping me from within a bush, the weight of it's scale-covered body pressed onto mine.  
  
I remember trying to fight it. I used every trick that Giles ever taught me, using various holds and pressure points and all of that crap. And none of it worked.  
  
The I remember the feeling of my blouse being ripped off. I can recall the noise each button made, the sound somehow filtering into my ears even though I know I was screaming for it to let me go.   
  
I remember going wild, forgetting every bit of training in that all-encompassing fear, and simply beating at it's chest.  
  
I remember how it felt when it sliced open my bra with it's talon, the sharp edge pressed against that sensitive skin between my breasts in a way which made death seem just so much closer. Then I felt those same talons pushing my short skirt up to my waist, the leather moving smoothly and almost soundlessly…mockingly quite.  
  
He laughed at me. I tried and I tried, and for some reason he found this funny. Maybe it was because my efforts were so obviously useless. Maybe it was because it was a Slayer who was beneath him, crying out like a helpless child. I don't know why he laughed. I only remember what it sounded like.  
  
Like gravel and dark chocolate. Harsh and self-satisfied.  
  
He didn't immediately pull down my underwear. No, he prolonged it as long as he could, the feeling of power and dominance over something most demons feared intoxicating to his pride, no doubt. Instead, he pushed his scaly head between my breasts, which felt…  
  
I don't know what it felt like. I can't tell you. I can't really remember much of what happened next…I was gone at the time. My mind retreated inward, defending itself where my body couldn't. All I can remember is those eyes, and then a feeling of immense pain as something was rammed deep within me.   
  
Then the darkness truly claimed me, and I willingly submitted to it.  



	2. Waking Up

I woke up in a really big bed.  
  
I know, it's a strange way to put it, but that was my first thought.  
  
What a big bed.  
  
Followed by: it hurts so bad.  
  
I wondered where I was for a moment, and why I was in such immense pain, but part of my confusion was cleared up by the voices I heard arguing in the next room.  
  
Xander. The man yelling was Xander, and the screeching voice whipping right back at him must have been Anya. So I was in Xander's apartment…and Xander's bed. That made more sense then it didn't. And the pain…  
  
"-want me to leave her there, bleeding on the frickin' grass, Ahn?" I heard through the wall, the anger and hurt in his voice in equal measure. I wondered where I'd been bleeding because the pain was spread all throughout my body.  
  
"No, I just-"  
  
"You just what!?" my friend shouted heatedly, "You just didn't want to be bothered with someone else's problems, even if-"  
  
"No, I don't want to be burdened by other people's problems, Xander. She's the Slayer! She can take care of herself! I don't even understand why you do this all the-"  
  
"Take care of herself? Did you see her when I carried her in?"  
  
"Of course, Xander. I know what a rape victim looks like. I-"  
  
Rape victim.  
  
My mind paused for a moment to pull in that all-important piece of information.  
  
I was a rape victim.   
  
I'd been raped.  
  
Immediately, the memories from the night before stormed into my brain, each second slowly and painfully seared into my psyche, never to be erased.   
  
I'd been raped.  
  
Someone, no, something, had taken me against my will last night in the middle of the cemetery, and then they'd left me for dead there, with my clothing…  
  
Well, the ripped clothes were gone now, for which I was glad. I wouldn't have worn any of those things again, even if they weren't ripped. But obviously, Xander had gotten me cleaned up before placing me in the bed. I recognized the oversized t-shirt I was wearing as being one of my friend's favorites, and I wondered if that was just the first one he had pulled out or if it was a conscious choice.  
  
Probably the later, I decided, thinking about it in great detail as I looked around the room. I was ready to think about anything but what had happened last night.  
  
Wow, Xander has a really nice Star Trek Collector Plate set, I observed. The Klingon ridges on the one look-  
  
Suddenly, I heard the door to the apartment slam shut, followed by a muffled sigh. A muffled masculine sigh. So Anya must've stomped out.  
  
A few seconds later, Xander himself walked into the bedroom, however, I must admit that he didn't look like the Xander I knew.  
  
He looked so…tired. Tired and beaten. He looked how I felt, and as I watched his eyes open wide at seeing me awake, I wonder just how much of that tiredness had to do with me.  
  
"Morning, Buffy…" he said gently, sitting down on a small chair near the bed which I hadn't noticed, "How ya…how ya doin'?"  
  
I stared at him, unable to answer.   
  
"Buffy?", he prompted with concern, those brown eyes which were normally full of mirth now drenched with apprehension, "Buffy, can you hear me?"  
  
I laughed. I mean, it wasn't meant to be funny, but for some reason, I found it so.   
  
"Xander," I said between giggles which I knew weren't healthy, "I was raped. That doesn't effect the hearing…"  
  
There, I'd said it. I'd admitted it to the world in general, and to Xander Harris. Maybe now the nightmare would end and I'd wake up in my room, in my bed, with no aching pain between my legs, or in my thighs and breasts.   
  
But Xander's eyes were still there, those big chocolate orbs staring at me with such tender concern. Why wouldn't he stop? Why did he care, dammit!? Anya was right! I'm was Slayer! I could take care of myself! I don't need people to be so damned worried about me! Xander had other things to do, construction things, girlfriend things…he didn't need to be helping me! I could take care of myself!  
  
No, you couldn't.  
  
The voice whispered into my mind, gravel and dark-chocolate.  
  
No, I couldn't take care of myself. I'd been raped. I'd been-  
  
"Buffy? Buffy?"   
  
That familiar and loving voice in a gentle whisper. I felt dirty.  
  
"Buffy? Buffy, are you okay? Buffy? I know-"  
  
"No, you don't!" I cried. I had to fight back. I had to show that I was better. I had to show that I was stronger.  
  
"Buffy…" he repeated, carefully not touching me in a way that was almost reassuring, "Buffy…I know that I have no idea what you went through-"  
  
"No, you don't!" I said it again. It didn't make me feel any better, but I said it again. I wanted to scream it.   
  
"I know I don't." he agreed with me gently, his voice even.  
  
Dammit, fight me!  
  
"I just wanted you to know, Buffy…that I'm there for you." Xander told me, those big brown eyes looking at me so strangely. "If you need anything-"  
  
"I need to go to the bathroom," I told him, which was true. I'd felt the press of my bladder earlier when I'd woken up, but other things had taken my attention at the time.  
  
I thought he'd laugh, but Xander just nodded at me. I immediately tried to get up from the bed to go, but I underestimated the pain and fell back onto the bed with a moan. Then a hand reached down to me.  
  
I pushed it aside and tried to get up again. I got the same result, the pain even worse.  
  
Then there was the hand.  
  
I picked up my arm to swat it away once more, but then I decided to take it. I knew I could've gotten up if I'd kept trying, but I figured I'd hurt Xander's feelings if I didn't accept his help.  
  
Strong muscles, stronger then I remembered, pulled me up, then lifted me into sturdy arms which carried me quickly and smoothly into the bathroom. When we got there, he placed me on the seat of the toilet, then waited.  
  
"I've got to go, Xander, get out…"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Xander, I-"  
  
"I have to make sure that you don't mess up the bandages," he told me calmly, "The doctor at the clinic said to make sure that you don't urinate on them because then you could cause an infection."  
  
"Fine, I'll-"  
  
"And I have to make sure that you don't fall over and hurt yourself…"  
  
I read between the lines. He wanted to make sure I didn't try anything stupid, like killing myself or trying to get away somewhere.  
  
Sometimes Xander's too smart for his own damn good.  
  
I looked up into his face, figuring that I could perhaps get him to leave out of pity, but I realized after looking into his eyes that this wouldn't work. He was determined to take care of me.  
  
So instead of being stubborn to the point of stupidity, I began to adjust my bandages so that I could pee, but the striking pain came with each adjustment, and I didn't know if I'd be able to do it.  
  
I saw Xander begin to reach over, but I shook my head brusquely and continued on despite the aching it caused. It took a minute, but I did it all by myself. However, when I saw what was underneath some of the bandages, I nearly puked instead.  
  
Flesh bruised and black, some of it almost dyed yellow with various antiseptics and such. Cuts and scrapes from something or other. It was-  
  
I felt hands brace me and glanced up to see Xander. I straightened and pushed away from him, then pulled my eyes away from the area and did my business in the bathroom. Then I readjusted the bandages carefully this time and stared up to glare stubbornly up at Xander. I'd done it one my own. All by myself. I didn't need any help from some no-account-  
  
He smiled at me so gently, so lovingly, with so much concern and compassion.  
  
And then I was in his arms, sobbing my eyes out, crying for all that I'd lost, and all that I'd never find again.  
  



	3. Nothing to Be There For

I met the rest of the gang a couple of hours later.  
  
Xander wouldn't let me get out of the bed after that horrible scene in the bathroom, so all of them were brought into his bedroom to see me sitting beneath all those blankets like some sort of ancient invalid.   
  
In they filed, like some deranged platoon. As if they were coming to see a fallen soldier. I watched them all as they made their way to the various spots in the small room, and nearly laughed at how concerned they all were. I wasn't dead. Didn't they know that?  
  
Giles, his face drawn and ever so pale, the strain weighing down on him so heavily that I wondered what was going on in his head even more than I usually did. Willow, her face scrunched up in concern, confusion, and more then a little pain as she made her way to the side of the bed with Tara following quietly behind her. Spike, drifting around the corners of the room, as if afraid that he'd somehow be blamed for what had happened. Anya was acting similarly, and I figured that she must have felt guilty about the way she'd acted when Xander had dragged me in earlier that night.   
  
Then there was Xander, his abnormally still form by my bed as it had been at all times, as if he'd appointed himself as my personal body guard. As if I needed one. My Slayer-healing would kick in soon and I'd be back to normal. Then my friend could go back to being regular-Xander instead of this steady golem guarding me like some sacred statue.  
  
"Buffy…" Giles began gravely, staring at me with those amazingly deep hazel eyes. It was almost as if he was trying to read my soul with that gaze, and I didn't want that. He had no business in there…so I turned away. This must have worried him, because a second later I felt a hesitant touch on my shoulder.   
  
I shrugged it off. I didn't see what the big deal was.  
  
"Um…well…Buffy…" Giles began again, this time pulling away from me to clean his glasses. That was okay. That felt right. It was how he normally acted.  
  
"Yes?" I asked, my patience running thin. You'd think the man would have rubbed a hole into the frickin' glass by now.  
  
"Well, um…"  
  
"What he's trying to say, Buffy, is that we're here for you…" Willow blurted out, immediately leaning over the bed to give me a hug that I didn't even feel.   
  
We're here for you. You're here for me to what? What the hell does that mean? Don't they understand? There's nothing to be there for…it was nothing. I don't feel anything different, so it isn't difference. It's just another part of the job. The dirty and gritty side of my job, but that's what you gotta deal with when you're the Chosen One.  
  
"Thanks, Willow…" I replied. I said it for her mental well being more then anything.  
  
"A-and you can stay at our apartment as long as you like…" Anya put in, poking out from behind Spike and Giles, "You can even use the bed. I mean, it's not like Xander and I never used the couch to-"  
  
Anya's voice finally crumpled under the weight of several glares, the most heated from her own boyfriend. I thought that was kinda funny. The guy who was nearly her fiancee was taking my side. What'd I ever do to deserve that?  
  
Nothing, the syrup-and-gristle voice told me harshly, you've done nothing, and you deserve nothing.  
  
Immediately, I gasped in shock. The voice…it was so…  
  
I could've sworn that it was coming from…the room.  
  
Immediately, despite the pain I was in, I hopped out of bed and into a fighting stance. I checked quickly under the bed, even though the bending seriously hurt my abdomen, then looked around the small bedroom. He was in here. I knew it. I'd heard him.   
  
"Come out, you goddamned bastard! Come out right now!" I screamed in challenge, waiting for that dark figure to hop out from behind Spike or something like that. He was here. The bastard was here, watching me act like a frickin' invalid. And he was laughing…the smug piece of shit was laughing at me.  
  
"Yeah, you can laugh," I told him, shouting loud enough so that should he have escaped the room and hidden in the kitchen, he'd hear me. "You think you took something from me? Do you think you beat me, you shit-faced dick! I swear I'll-"  
  
Suddenly, arms wrapped around me, and I tried to elbow the owner of said arms right in the chest to get away. The attacker flexed back and I missed. No!  
  
My mind screamed out in primal terror.  
  
No, not again! Never again! Please, God, don't let it happen again! I can't-  
  
I think I was kicking and flailing like a little girl when I realized that it was just Xander putting me back into the bed, his gentle hands now tucking me between the sheets. Xander, once more that silent care-giver that seemed at once alien and familiar, fluffing the pillows that he'd worked hard to earn the money for, fixing the mattress he'd purchased for himself…all for me.  
  
Xander telling the gang that maybe the rest of the visit could wait. Giles popped his head back in for a moment, but the dark-haired golem at the door shooed him away with promises of better luck the next time.   
  
I sat up to ask him who the hell he thought he was, but decided against it. For some reason, I didn't feel the need as strongly as I had to have him leave me alone. In a really weird way, I was glad it was just me and him in the room, even when he sighed tiredly and plopped down unceremoniously into the chair beside my bed. It was nice to have him there, in a way…  
  
"Are you okay, Buffy?" he asked me after a long sigh which had him ending up leaning all the way back in the chair.  
  
I felt the light sneer come onto my face. "When are you gonna stop asking that?" I asked, irately to the dark-haired young man who'd asked me this question countless times since the bathroom incident.  
  
"I'll stop asking when you tell me the truth, Buffy…" he answered simply, his gaze more tired then I'd ever seen it as he stared at me.   
  
He always could see right through me. I guess it was one of the reasons I'd come to avoid him for the past few years. Well, not avoid, but sort of distance myself from. He had this uncanny sense to see past the bullshit and figure out all the wrong things about you. And I'd had too many, and done too many, things wrong recently.   
  
But now…now I had to answer him. I couldn't really move, at least not fast enough to get out without Xander grabbing a leg or two, so I was most definitely a bit of a captive in this situation.  
  
So I thought about it. I thought about how I felt…if I was okay. I thought about what I'd thought to myself, what I'd said to the only people I give have a crap about in this world, and how I'd acted in general. I thought about what kind of person I was, what kind of person I'd been, and what kind of person I could end up as. I thought about a voice of syrup and gravel.  
  
And then my only thought was that crying in Xander's arms was becoming almost a habit.  
  



	4. Waiting for Dawn

I woke up the next morning in that bed again, and the pain in between my legs was almost gone.  
  
But the pain elsewhere…it was only beginning, and I think that even then I realized it.   
  
There seemed to be this emptiness, this unchangeable feeling of being alone in the world. It was as if someone had gone inside of me and ripped this vitally important, and yet till then invisible, part.   
  
Now, I hurt everywhere. Now, my world was consumed by a long slow ache that seemed to build within my heart every few moments or so only to come washing all over me in a tide of anguish.  
  
I heard footsteps, and then felt a light touch on my arm. I looked up through blurry eyes to see Xander, his face full of concern and worry.   
  
Why isn't he smiling? Xander always smiles…And it's my fault he isn't smiling.   
  
"Buffy? Are you better now?" he asked gently, moving that soft touch from my shoulder to brush my cheek lovingly. His hand was warm, and it felt as if each meeting of flesh held a spark within it. I leaned into that touch just to feel that warmth, just to feel another human being who-  
  
Scaly hands pushing my hair away to plunder my lips. Mouth bleeding from fangs probing during a mockery of affection.  
  
I pulled away, shocked and frightened. What was wrong with me? This was Xander, my Xander-shaped friend. The one who's always taken care of me. I know he'd never hurt me…I mean, even when he was possessed by the hyena, all he tried to do was-  
  
I stopped the thought. I didn't want to think of that, and I certainly didn't want to think of Xander in that way. Not when he was staring down at me with those large chocolate orbs full of compassion.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
I finally found the ability to answer.  
  
"Yeah, Xander?"  
  
He seemed relieved that I'd spoken.  
  
"I was just…you kinda freaked out. Do you not want me to touch you?"  
  
I looked at him blankly. Why would he ever think-  
  
Rough leathery bumps against me-  
  
"No, Xander, it's all right…" I told him hurriedly, trying to dispel the sensations that were rising up in my mind, "I just…just…I'm not good right now…"  
  
He nodded, the slightly overgrown curly hair sweeping before his eyes with the movement. I wondered when he'd let his hair grow. Had it been this long before? I couldn't remember. Had I even known before?   
  
"I figured you weren't in the best way, Buffster…"   
  
Buffster…I haven't heard that in a long time. Is that because he stopped saying it, or was it because I stopped listening.   
  
What did I know about this man in front of me?   
  
"No, Xander…I'm…I'm not really, no…" I stammered out with lips that didn't work right.  
  
There was a pause, and then I felt those muscled arms slip beneath my knees and behind my back. I didn't say a word, curious to see what he was going to do, and I facilitated his work as well as I could feeling as I did.  
  
He brought me out to the small terrace on the side of the bedroom, then set me down carefully in the sedan chair that he'd obviously set out just for me. From this spot, I looked out over Sunnydale, my hometown, and saw that the sun was just about to set.  
  
"It's beautiful, isn't it…" he said quietly as he pulled up a small lawn chair beside me.  
  
I looked at the sunset. Really looked at it.   
  
He was right. It was beautiful. The sky was an amazing tapestry full of bright reds and oranges, pinks and lavenders, all blending into a deep purple which faded into the dark night sky, where twinkling lights fluttered in the darkness of space.  
  
Night. Darkness. It was dark. So dark.  
  
I pushed the words out of my mind.   
  
This wasn't darkness…this was light. Light taking it's leave, giving us a beautiful sight to assure us that it'll come back tomorrow morning. Light making a lovely promise to return to us. To me.  
  
I looked back at Xander, and saw in his eyes that that was exactly how he saw it.  
  
I'd always seen it as a bell tolling for me. The beginning of danger and work, the beginning of the darkness which I had to fight every night.   
  
Darkness. Night. I was dark. So dark.  
  
I drowned the voice with another one, one which called me so many lovely things.  
  
Buffster.  
  
Buffmeister.   
  
Duchess of Buffonia.  
  
Then I stared into those eyes and saw nothing but light.  
  
Within them, I could see that beautiful array of colors upon the clouds, the Light's promise to him and to me to return.  
  
I felt as if I could sit there all night to wait for the dawn. Xander, somehow understanding these feelings better, I think, then even I did, let me, and never left my side as the darkness took over and turned day to night. We waited for the dawn.  
  
And somehow, it wasn't so dark.  
  
  
  



	5. They Slip Away

  
I'm now allowed out of bed.  
  
After five days, I was now allowed out of bed.  
  
Xander told me that morning that I was allowed to get out of bed all by myself, without his guidance or lifting. He said that my wounds were mostly healed and thus not as likely to rip open, so I could walk.  
  
But could I walk?   
  
I wasn't sure. As much as I bitched about being able to do things for myself the days past, I realized that I really didn't want to get up and walk. I wanted to stay in bed.   
  
More importantly, I didn't want to do anything alone.  
  
It wasn't like I couldn't do it, a small voice within me insisted, it was just that I preferred to have someone with me. I wanted Xander with me. I felt safe when Xander was around.  
  
It was utterly ridiculous, the more rational side of me brought to my attention, Xander was just a normal human being. To the eye, he might look more imposing then me, but I was the Slayer, and thus much more of a powerhouse then Xander. But…I needed him. I needed him as much as I needed food and water, but for a far different reason.  
  
He kept away the darkness. He kept away that horrible voice in the night.  
  
When I was talking to him, or listening to him, or watching a bit of TV with him, or even just sitting silently with him as he changed the bandages without even the slightest hints of sexuality to his movements…I felt different. I felt…content.  
  
Sure, the world and all it's problems were there, omnipresent in my mind, but they always seemed just a little bit more conquerable when I was with him.  
  
And he seemed content to stay with me for as long as I needed him. I didn't know how he kept his job considering all the time he was with me. I also didn't know where Anya had disappeared to. After that initial meeting with the rest of the group, she'd seemingly vanished into thin air.   
  
I wondered if I should ask, but then decided that I didn't want to know.  
  
At this point, as much of a coward's way it might have seemed, I just wanted to stay with Xander in this apartment, never alone, never without him, never in the darkness.  
  
"So, Buffster, what's up? Anything decent on television?" he asked suddenly, walking in to the room and breaking my thoughts into a million shards of confusion.   
  
"What?" I asked back.   
  
Xander began to raise an eyebrow and was about to make a comment, but then his face relaxed and he gave me an gentle smile.  
  
"I was just wondering if you were okay in here by yourself without the Xandman entertaining you, milady?" he questioned with a grin.   
  
I decided to play his game.  
  
"Nay, Sir Knight, your lady is much taxed by her lack of entertainment…"  
  
"Really?" he asked with a bit of confusion as he walked over to the bed, sat on a corner and fiddled with the TV, "I thought…221 channels would be ample amusement…"  
  
I smiled. I think…yes, I'm pretty sure…that this was my first genuine smile since it had happened.  
  
"Tis not the entertainment which is lacking, but rather the company…" I replied, pointing to my stuffed pig, which Xander had brought over a couple days before for me, "Sir Gordo isn't as skilled in conversation as thee…"   
  
Xander raised an eyebrow, then scowled at the puffy pig. "How thou dost disappoint, Sir Gordo! If thou art failing in thy mission, I shalt have to take thy place!"  
  
I simply nodded, not feeling like coming up with the Middle-English to reply, then made room for him on the bed to scooch up so that he could sit with me. He did so, then grabbed the remote from the bedside table where I had left it, and turned to me.  
  
"What does my lady wish to view?" he asked.  
  
"'Whose Line Is It Anyway' if thou wilt, Sir Knight…"I requested feeling, as I always did when he was with me, the Darkness and Loneliness slipping away from their familiar perches in my heart.   
  
And then Colin Mocherie and Ryan Stiles ran after them with rifles while pretending they were penguins doing an episode of 'Days of Our Lives'…  
  
  



	6. The Truth Will

I dropped the book onto the floor, and boy did it ever make the most satisfying crash.  
  
"No, Giles, it's not this one." I told him for at least the fifth time this morning, not that I thought he'd heard me the other four. He was being almost insane in his relentlessness, in his need to find out just what had been able to…able to…rape me.  
  
Yeah, it'd been over two weeks, and I still had problems saying it. Rape. Me. The raping of me. Nope, still hurts.  
  
I mean, I could walk around; I could do stuff…but deep down where the antiseptic couldn't reach, the wounds still hurt like a bitch. And now Giles was expecting me to help him identify the bastard who did this to me. Wee…whoop de frigging do. Just what I want to do now, with parts of me still aching and my head in fifteen places at once: find this thing again.  
  
It's not like I didn't want to kill it with extreme prejudice, but to be honest, I was scared shitless of this thing. It took me like I was nothing, like I was the Chosen Whore, and I hadn't been able to do a damn thing but lie there and take it.   
  
"Not that one then?" Giles asked suddenly, his head rising up from the large black tome it'd been hiding in since we'd started this crazy whirligig of research fun, "I was quite sure it was that one since it had the right sized scales, just as you described…they're a rare size, as well as a distinctive type of texture that only exists in-"  
  
"She said no, G-man…" muttered Xander from his spot only a foot away from me; he never really got any farther then that except for my visits to the ladies' room. His voice was gruff, almost angry, and I wondered why.   
  
Yes, Xander has for the last two weeks appointed himself my personal guardian, and I had a feeling he knew I felt really uncomfortable about the research. He'd actually protested it from the start, and only several appeals from Giles had gotten me here, but that was rough coming from him. Really rough. I had a feeling the 'G-man' had been added just to keep some sort of odd peace.  
  
"But-"  
  
"Giles, drop it…" He continued, never taking his eyes out of the book in his lap. He was pissed. I didn't know why, but he was pissed.  
  
A grunt from my Watcher finished the conversation for a while, and I was left to merely watch the two of them pore through all the gigantic leather-bound books scattered around the room.   
  
Giles was almost manic. I'd noticed it earlier, but he was even worse now that I really looked at him. Fingers twitched and shook as he flipped pages, his eyes racing over the parchment in hopes of finding something, anything about the creature.  
  
Xander, on the other hand, was the familiar rock I'd gotten used to over the two weeks. He no longer fiddled and squirmed around me like he always had; instead, he was just there, as if every moment not with me was spent waiting for me.   
  
I still had no idea how he was keeping his job, or where the hell Anya was. I hadn't heard her voice, or a single mention of her the entire time I'd been staying in Xander's apartment, sleeping in his bed while he took the constant post on the couch.   
  
"So Xander, how's Anya?" I finally asked, my curiosity at the limit. It was something I'd meant to ask him, and for some reason, hadn't. But now, in my aggravation with this stupid search and my boredom in having no new book to look for the bastard in, I asked.  
  
His head quirked immediately, and then rose like some sort of animatronic puppet, eyes instantly meeting my own.   
  
"Why you asking, Buffster?" he answered with an odd note to his voice. Why was he acting like this?   
  
I shrugged. "I was just wondering…I mean, she IS your girlfriend and all, and-"  
  
"No. She left."  
  
And that was it. That was it from him. No explanation or regret, no worry or care. Just those three words, as if he was telling me to go eat dinner, or that he'd just gotten his hair cut. Dear God.   
  
"She left?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
My stomach dropped out of it's place.  
  
"And your job?" I asked, terrified of the answer.   
  
He smiled at me, and then reached out to smooth my hair. "Don't worry about it. I have plenty of time saved up, so I'm just calling in EWD days…"  
  
"EWD days?" I asked, unfamiliar with the term. I don't know much about time off from jobs or anything like that, especially since both of my parents were self-employed, but even I could figure out that two weeks of no work could be seriously bad for Xander.  
  
"Emergency days…" Xander answered matter-of-factly, "I joined the union a while back, and since I'm union, I get EWD days to cover me for stuff like this. It helps that we're between contracts too. Don't worry about it, Buff."  
  
I nodded. "Just checking."  
  
He nodded as well, and then went back to the book, his eyes scanning the page almost in a daze. I don't know if he was actually looking, or just trying to placate Giles by pretending to help, but there was something going on here beyond Xander's concern for my mental stability. Not that it wasn't important, but it wasn't the real reason why he was so still.  
  
Giles interrupted my thoughts by shoving a very large and smelly book underneath my nose. Immediately, I drew back from the sudden movement and nearly fell out of my chair. He noticed, frowned, then placed the book on the table.  
  
"Ever so sorry, Buffy, but I was rather excited to find another demon which might fit the description so quickly after the last one…" he got out in one long, nervous British stream of apology, "But take a look at this one."  
  
I looked down, took in something that was just about the farthest thing from whatever the hell attacked me (except for the scales, he had gotten that right) and shook my head.  
  
"Sorry…" I told him, meaning it, "The ears are much too big. And the face was wider."  
  
And I was so not expecting to hear a growl from my Watcher.  
  
"If you knew that, why didn't you tell me before?" Giles said angrily as he grabbed his book, spun, and walked back to his desk, dropping it on the surface with a loud crack that only ancient tomes can really pull off.  
  
"Cause I didn't remember it?"  
  
"Obviously, you did," he insisted as he snatched his glasses off of his face like his life depended on it, "otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to tell me, would you?"  
  
"Giles…chill." I told him carefully, "It's not like I'm holding back information on you. It's just that it's hard to remember what it looked like in the dark, and a lot of the time, I'm just going on what pops up when you show me a picture."  
  
"Surely…"  
  
I didn't like his tone, and I didn't understand why he was so angry. I mean, I understand that he wanted to find this thing and exterminate with extreme prejudice, but this was over the top, especially for him. I was about to open my mouth, but suddenly, Xander spoke.  
  
"She's not being difficult on purpose, Giles, and you know it. Now calm down and stop getting British with us..."  
Immediately, Giles' eyes snapped towards Xander, whose head was still in the book.   
  
"Xander," he said, his patience obviously straining, "I'm merely trying to find out what did this to Buffy and-"  
  
"And we're helping you as best we can," Xander cut in, finally raising his eyes to the Giles, "I mean, I know I'm not at Willow-level with the research ability, but I'm doing my best, and Buffy's doing all she can with what she remembers. So just quiet down and keep looking. Anger won't help anything."  
  
If anything, this seemed to make Giles even more upset. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he desperate to find this thing for some reason.  
  
"No, I will *not* quiet down, Xander!" Giles growled, "For weeks, you've kept her…cooped up in your apartment like some sort of china doll. I understand that you don't want her hurt, but she's got to get back into her normal habits, or she won't heal!"  
  
I wondered if he realized I was still in the room.  
  
"All I want is to find the thing that did it to her and help her kill it so that this sort of thing never happens again, and so that maybe she'll find a little closure. Just because you have misplaced guilt about what you *almost* did while you were possessed *years* ago--"  
  
Another crack, and Xander was standing, the book at his feet.   
  
"This has nothing to do with that!"  
  
Wait a minute! What on earth are they talking about? I mean, they couldn't be talking about the hyena incident, could they, I wondered. Wait. Hold up. Xander said he didn't remember…  
  
"Don't try that with me, child. I'm not an idiot."  
  
"I don't care! It doesn't have anything to do with that."  
  
Giles sneered. Honest to God sneered. Oh my God, I'm so in the middle of the Twilight Zone©.   
  
"Xander…"   
  
But he didn't hear me. Dear God. He's not listening to me. This has been boiling beneath the surface all night, and I know that I'm not going to be able to do anything. Even if I'd stood up, pulled them apart with Slayer strength, and put them both in time out or something, it still wouldn't have stopped it. I could only watch on in complete shock.  
  
I looked to Xander and found him glaring at Giles, which was just so wrong. I mean, they've disagreed in the past, but I know that Xander kinda thinks as Giles as his father-figure-type-person. But he was. Twilight Zone©…fucking Twilight Zone©…  
  
"Don't 'Xander' me!" my friend yelled back at the reasonable tone, "It's not about that. And even if it was, you're the last person to be accusing people about agendas."  
  
Giles looked startled, then brushed it off. What on Earth was Xander getting at?  
  
"I have no idea what you're-"  
  
"You don't think I haven't thought about it, Giles?" Xander said, his voice suddenly deathly quiet. And cold. Painfully cold. I've only heard him like this a couple times ever, and whenever he uses that voice…   
  
Never in my life do I ever want that voice directed at me.   
  
"I've been around Buffy" he pointed at me, the first sign that they remembered I was in the room since the book dropped "the entire time, and you don't think I haven't been wondering how something could get the Slayer like that? Come on, Giles. I might be lazy, but I'm not stupid. I knew there had to be some sort of trick to this, and I figured it out last night, when we were all over here for dinner.  
  
"Someone stole the rest of the bottle, didn't they? You couldn't send it back after the whole ordeal. Your ties were severed, you had no one you trusted to take it, and so you kept it…"  
  
Giles crumpled, his body folding in on itself as he sunk into the chair. And as much as I wanted to go over and grab him as he did, or move, or do anything, I couldn't. I couldn't move. Something was going to come out now, something that was going to hurt me, and I just couldn't move.  
  
"Someone stole the rest of the stuff…the stuff that makes Buffy a normal girl. Someone stole it from your house, and used it to rape her."  
  
And my world fell apart to sound of gravely laughter.  
TBC 


End file.
